


Temptest

by dan, Zandrammas



Category: Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Alternate Norse Religion & Lore, Asgard, Dökkálfar | Dokkalfar | Dark Elves (Norse Religion & Lore), F/M, Giants, Goddesses, Helheimr | Hel (Realm), Just Sex, Might turn out kinky, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Roleplay, Roleplay Logs, probably will, with a little plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 10:18:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dan/pseuds/dan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zandrammas/pseuds/Zandrammas
Summary: Nethaire is the daughter of Hel, of whom had a tryst with a dark elf long ago. Growing up in Helheim she has had only the dead to talk to, which is usually a one-way conversation. That is until a certain golden eyed immortal unwittingly damages one of her statues in Midgard. Fueled by utter rage, she abducts the man and brings him back to Helheim, where she plays twisted mind games with him. She both disgusts and allures him, though he is willing to play out her sick fantasies just for the chance to escape...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just like my other stories, this one was crafted together through role-play with my companion. It features one of my OC's: Nethaire and his: Kal. It was intended to be filled with just endless smut, but somehow a plot managed to weave itself in. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

  
The icy caps of the Scandes stretched as far as the eye could see, black mountains dappled in flashes of silver atop their highest peaks. Overhead, a landscape of infinite stars glowered at the crimson fiend that dared top one Midgard's oldest summits.  
  
Men across the ages had really found the time to place thousands of rectangular stones in a path only a few feet across from base to peak, and every storyteller within a thousand leagues told you a different story about how many were placed and who originally ordered the path to the top be built.   
  
The soil was too rocky for greenery, and the temperature too cold. Yet with every step of Kal's boot, the snow that scattered the flat perch receded, reduced to the water it had pretended not to be.  
  
A figurehead was placed within a small stone fixture at the top of the path, features too worn by time and precipitation, and the inscription on the base was long made illegible. Nevertheless, it was inevitably made in honor of some deity. Finding it likely to be some snobby Asgardian, a swift kick removed the head from its aged torso. The contact ought to have shattered his foot, were he mortal, but he neglected to even wince once placing his foot back upon Midgardian soil.  
  
With a plop, the decapitated head bounced off the side of the path, landing amid an inexplicably liquid pool of water that had previously reflected the starry night in all its glory. Ripples blurred the glass-like surface, now, and for a moment, the crimson fiend paused, peering down into the murky depths with furrowed brow and baited breath.  
  


* * *

  
  
Everlasting night descended upon the dead of Helheim. One could not tell by the absent stars and moon it was such, but by a feeling. For this realm thrived in the abyss and as such the everdark shall always remain. The only source of light other than  the lanterns set about and luminescent plants, were the soft glow of souls long dead and wandering aimlessly. They are the ghosts of those rejected by the Valkyrie; those who now serve Hel.  
  
A collection of lanterns illuminate a small palace nestled within the void; a home for a princess of the dead. Against her mothers wished, she frequently ventured beyond the everdark and into midgard occasionally. She even sometimes visited Asgard under the cloak of night, playing nasty tricks on the gods living there whilst hiding in shadow. More often however she could be found traveling between dimensions while on contract to kill. Murder wasn't a job to this princess, rather a twisted hobby.  
  
Hidden within the ebony walls of her palace, the goddess Nethaire wore a hole into her violet carpets from pacing. No contracts have shown up as of late much to her disdain, and Odin was taking better precautions to bar her entrance into Asgard.  
  
As much as Nethaire loved to wrap herself in the immortal abyss of Helheim; there was never anything to do. Playing tricks on the dead that wander her halls no longer appealed, and sparkling conversation with them was beyond pointless. It was as if they lost their intellect when they died.  
  
The assassin halted her steps and planted slender hands upon the curve of her hip in thought. The golden light of indoor lanterns illuminated the deep gray that coloured her skin, and reflected within the haunting aquatic optics of her features. Strands of silver and azure framed her narrow face and plump lips before tumbling down the bare expanse of her back. A gown of burgundy framed her lush exterior--if a gown it was truly called. For it revealed more ashen flesh than fabric; a column of dark ruby draped over each of her heaving breasts, just barely covering her nipples. The gown then tapered down into a black belt before fanning out into wider strips of cloth, a fair amount on Nethaire's front and backside, allowing her thick thighs to be revealed.  
  
Suddenly, the goddess felt something deep within her start to dwindle. The immense power she received through prayer, sacrifice and gifts all but faltered slightly.  
  
"What in the nine worlds is happening?" She growled bitterly to herself, all feelings of boredom seeming to subside.  
  
Nethaire's lids slid over her aquamarine disks as she began to concentrate. She suspected that somehow one of her gifts has been altered or destroyed, else she would feel the full effect of her power. Her alabaster brows knitted together while she searched the nine realms.  
  
After searching seven worlds, she looked into Midgard and stumbled upon it. Long ago the natives of Earth placed a statue of her on top a mountain. She thought it was a silly little thing until that statue began to transfer the power of midgard into Nethaire. Since then it had become a most treasured island.  
  
Yet for some reason an unknown fool decided to decapitate it.  
  
Fury like molten lava shot through Nethaire's veins, causing her once ivory hair to shift into a rich carmine. She would make this fool suffer for his impudence.  
  
In an instant the princess surrounded herself in Helheim's void, and used the darkness to access her desired location.  
  
If the stranger's aim was to piss off a goddess of death, then he succeeded.  
  
As the male leaned towards the pond, a figure sprung forth from its freezing depths. Clad in nothing but her own skin, Nethaire reached out upon breaking the surface. Sharp nails met warm flesh as she caught the man and dragged him down into the deep with her.  
While he seemed distracted, the goddess used her abilities to penetrate his mental barrier and send him into a forced slumber. Now the male lay limp in her arms deep beneath the waters surface, floating in its inky depths. Her naked form pressed against his unconscious one, trying to keep him as close as possible before attempting to transport them back to Helheim.  
  
For a calm moment let herself gaze at him, and was taken aback by how handsome his face was. Liquid crimson strands drifted in the water surrounding masculine, chiseled features and a strong jaw. Perhaps he would not be a mere prisoner like she thought before.  
  
Nethaire allowed the abyss to once more brush across her exposed flesh before transporting her back to her domain.  
  
Once they arrived safely within the dim yet luxurious foyer of her palace, she deposited the male on the violet carpet with an unceremonious THUD. With a sigh and flick of her wrist, the gown she was wearing before she made her journey magically slipped upon her form. Damp tendrils of now teal locks fell around her face as she knelt beside the stranger and entered his mind once more. Nethaire made sure to pay no mind to any curious locked doors that dwelled in his mind, and simply woke him before stepping away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kal awakes to a delicious nightmare..

It was more than evident that the exotic redhead's time in Midgard had been extended. Though he doubtlessly hailed from a region far from these godforsaken lands, he'd adopted the barbaric, Nordic look no matter how you looked at it.  
  
Nothing dared contain his painted torso, exposing iconic tattoos for the world to see. A single leather strap slung diagonally across his chest, supporting a sheathed blade whose hilt poked behind a thick, rounded shoulder. From the hips down, he bound his lower half in leather and wool, and a sturdy pair of boots rounded out the simplistic look. A strip of bear pelt hanging asymmetrically from his belt was the only form of decoration his outfit boasted.   
  
As the ripples in the water's surface began to relax, his own reflection came further into focus, satisfying him until another face seemed suddenly to replace his own. Caught entirely defenseless, he found himself suddenly submerged with firm, feminine hands dragging him deeper. Legs licking, he parted his lips in an instinctive yell, miraculously sparking flame within the freezing water, before the sudden rush of cold fluids filled his lungs, and his mind fell numb, body going comatose.  
  
And he /was/ heavy. The sound of him hitting the floor rattled off the walls, like he were twice his own size. Collapsed onto his side, gravity rolled him onto his back, and he seemed more like a drowning victim than a man asleep until his eyes shot open and he sat up with a quickness, spitting water out onto the carpet.  
  
Notably, what was only shortly before ice water now nearly evaporated, it was so hot. It sizzled when it hit the carpet, and he threw his wet locks behind his shoulders, twisting as he pushed himself to his feet.  
  
He almost stumbled as he did, some of his muscles still asleep.  
  
"Who--? Where have you brought me, hag?"  
  
Lifting a shaky hand, he grasped the hilt that poked over his shoulder, starting to unsheathe his weapon. An anger smoldered in those golden rims, though it was not lacking confusion, too. For if it was his death she sought, surely she'd already have had her chance.   
  
  


* * *

  
Nethaire basked in the everlasting gloom of her palace whilst she watched the tanned stranger come to his senses. She observed him through aquamarine disks that glowed within the depths of the very darkness in which cloaked her form. He was a rather bold thing, she thought amusedly to herself. This.. being of some sort should be grateful she didn't simply separate his head from his neck.  
  
"Hag?" The princess of the dead eerily chuckled from the shadow, a sneer sliding across her plump lips. "You are truly a naïve creature if you have yet to grasp where you are, or to whom you speak to."  
  
Burgundy silk rustled as Nethaire elegantly swept into the flickering light of the lanterns that lit her home. The vivid blue of the flames illuminated the sharp edges of her ashen features; revealing not a hag, but a bewitching goddess. The light traveled and caressed Nehtaire's enchanting frame, slithering across the exposed flesh of her thick thighs, her narrow waist and brushed over the alluring curve of her generous breasts.  
  
She glided forward with such grace, you couldn't tell if she were merely walking or floating. The assassin halted just before the slightly flabbergasted man, leaning forward towards his handsome palette until she was just a breath away. For a moment, Nethaire was taken aback by the puff of hot air that blew from his lips and across her skin. It had been such a long time since she was in proximity to someone who wasn't dead or dying. It was almost a relief to feel such warmth flush her grayed flesh.  
  
The size difference was indeed something to behold, she mused. His crown only seemed to reach just below her neck, giving him a clear line of sight of her slightly exposed bosom. For she was no mere immortal, but part giantess as well.  
  
"You are in my realm, a domain for those who have died." Nethaire leaned slightly forward as she spoke, so that she may peer into his endless void of gold optics. A slender hand reached forth to gently trace the strong curve of the tanned beings jaw. He was indeed beautiful. She admired the way his hair of liquid crimson streamed down his shoulders in wet locks. And the obvious strength he harboured within. Simply to stare upon his beauty would alight a fire between her thighs.  
  
"By decapitating my statue in Midgard, you have partially cut the flow of power I gain from that world. I should kill you for it.." The assassin sneered at him, though there was little malice in her voice. "However," she continued, her sharp gaze roaming across the wet fabric that clung to his chiseled torso, "I have decided to grant you mercy."  
  
Letting go of his chin, she peered down at him through thick lashes. "You shall remain instead, to keep me company. Do not think to escape, for this is my domain and within it my power is unequaled. All of whom think to pass my wards without permission meet nothing but an early death. To which will still keep you here."  
  


* * *

  
  
Made uncertain by cryptic talk, his waspy gaze briefly scanned his surroundings, attempting to absorb the view of Helheim from within. It was a distorted, sinister place, built of the cold for cold, dead souls. But Kal was an eternal bonfire, entirely  opposed to everything this realm stood for. And because of that, he was also a priceless commodity. Nethaire would find no replacements in the mortal realm; a pyromancer's spirit would wither in minutes.   
  
Kal's sightseeing didn't last; the moment Nethaire stepped into the bluish firelight, he was c a p t i v a t e d, for better or worse. No wonder she'd so easily grabbed him and pulled him under; the woman that approached was of massive proportions, tall enough to make even the towering fenikkusu crane his head north -- if he cared to lift his gaze from her bust, that is. It would've been enormous even had she been a woman of normal height; at her size, it looked capable enough of murder should he poke his nose where it didn't belong. That, and her muscled, alluring frame to boot; she invigorated him.    
  
Violently, as well as sexually.   
  
The surrounding flames flare with added life, listening to the wants and desires of the feni now that the Flame resided in this realm.    
  
"Hel." He'd pieced it together some time ago, nodding slightly. "It's my first time here," he began cheekily, wondering if she had the faintest idea just who she'd tugged to Hel. "I think I'll look around a little, and then you can send me back to Midgard."    
  
In a swift movement, the weapon slung across his back loosed itself from his sheath. A massive sword extended from his hand, broad and thick, undoubtedly meant to be carried in both hands. Crimson coated it a sickening red, not with blood but with imbued heat and energy. Flames burst across the inscribed surface, dancing all the way down the hilt and up his arm, turning his muscular, veined texture into that of molten rock and flames up to the elbow. And the edge of this mammoth firesword now hovered but an inch from the goddess' throat.   
  
"I have slain five of your kind. A sixth would make no difference to me. I'm no mortal plaything; I am the Flame of War, and if you do not release me, I will destroy you and find my own way out."   
  
Golden irises glittered coldly, his tone deadly serious despite the lighthearted way he'd began.    
  
But his mind was largely untrained; he could not immediately sense Nethaire's meddling, and failed to react in a timely way.   
  


* * *

  
This man was either bold or stupid, the giantess concluded. For none would dare threaten her unholy form nor would they willingly hold a sword to her throat. Nethaire practically trembled as hot pleasure shot through her veins from just how impudent an d rebellious he seemed. Her pearly teeth flashed as she bit her lower lip, already imagining the intense ecstasy it will bring her to break him.   
  
"Hel, I am not." She hissed seductively to him, aqua disks glinting in the eventide like that of a predator analyzing its prey. "I am the goddess Nethaire and Hel is my mother. My power was born from that of giant, dark elf and god. My power eclipses even that of Odin."   
  
Her tantalizing frame of muscle and thick curves leaned closer to the blade that rest close to her neck. Nethaire shuddered as the sharp tip of steel penetrated her ashen flesh, allowing a trickle of black blood to pool into her collarbone before trailing down her plump breasts. The goddesses cold, narrowed disks never left his own as she leaned even further down. Her purplish tongue slipped out between plush lips to lick the cold metal now tainted with her warm blood, purring as she did so.   
  
"Yes.. you will make a welcome addition to my home." Nethaire growled into the surrounding darkness, arousal thick in her voice. Knowing well this imbecile would think to run her through, her mind slithered into his own while she had him momentarily distracted.   
  
A delighted low chuckle escaped the princesses lungs as she realized just how weak his mental barriers were. Such a fool, she thought smugly. Inky darkness swept across Kal's mentality like that of an impending storm, allowing Nethaire to claim what rightfully belongs to her. However she knew that while she could command his mind and body, she had no control of his heart. He would willingly become her slave given time however, of that she was certain.   
  
"Drop your sword and do not move." The giantess whispered to him, the tone of her voice almost taking form like that of a lover. Hard steel instantly met with that of ebony stone, causing a sharp ringing to echo throughout the chamber. Cruel laughter accompanied the discarded sword before once more silence reigned within the eternal abyss.   
  
Nethaire approached the fire-haired man again like that of a fox, icy blues reflecting a dark hunger as she hunted him. She reached out to grip his strong chin with her thin fingers, forcing the man to gaze up at her with sunlit orbs. Without warning her full lips crashed against his, tongue sliding into his mouth to deepen the kiss. The goddess moaned with such delight upon tasting him before taking his bottom lip in between her teeth and biting down, drawing back and licking her lips after.   
  
If she had her way, he would willingly pleasure her and use his perfect and well-muscled form to worship her in every way possible. She only just met this man and she craved him still. Nethaire could feel her thin panties grow damp with all the delicious thoughts of what she could do to him.   
"Follow me," the giantess ordered breathlessly before turning away and gliding towards the staircase to the right of the foyer.   
  
She did not need to know if he followed, for she could feel his overwhelming heat drift across her naked back. It took all her power not to simply whip around and take him right then and there. However why force it when there is so much more fun in him giving himself to her willingly.   
  
Azure flame illuminated the charcoal stairway as the two immortals descended into the void. The further they went, the colder it became. The princess was so used to the chilly nature of the dead air in the pit that she hardly noticed, though tiny pinpricks of the chill occasionally pierced her flesh. It wasn't long before they entered a nearly empty chamber of Nethaire's own creation. Abyssal stone lined the walls of the room, with not a picture nor window in sight. A lavish carpet of ruby ran across the cobbled flooring and into the hallway on the right. Only one candle flickered against the inky backdrop, revealing a large cage in the center of the room. The cage was simple in appearance, with towering bars of an unknown black metal and a small door on hinges in the front. No lock graced its exterior, however the air surrounding the cage practically crackled with the vast amounts of enchantments and wards placed upon it. None would be able to escape until Nethaire willed it herself.   
  
"Now, my dear," she purred sweetly to her companion, gesturing the cage before them. "Enter it and close the door behind you."   
  
The goddesses predatory gaze caressed the swell of his backside as he passed her and entered his new home. She had to suppress a moan upon seeing his dripping clothes plastered against the sharp lines of his broad shoulders.    
  
Nethaire snaked across crimson carpets towards the cage, her muscled, intimidating form halting just before the metal bars of the cage. Now that he was safely placed where he could not escape without her permission, she began to retreat from his mentality. She made sure to do so with a deadly precision, not wanting to disturb anything of value. She couldn't play with a sexy yet braindead man, now could she?   
  
"Much to your delight, I'm sure, you'll have to earn your meals." The goddess murmured with an unreadable expression streaking across her narrow features, though an unfiltered need clearly sparkled in the glow of her optics. "Warm my bed, and you shall eat. If not..."   
  
"Then starve and die here. I can keep you here for all eternity if I so wish. I am patient, I can wait..." She sneered down at him mockingly. With this she would finally be able to taste what she so desperately craved, and he would willingly give it to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neth's perspective is written by me, while Kal's is written by Dan.


	3. Chapter 3

It gripped him like a fever dream. Every command simultaneously corresponded with an inexplicable impulse within his mind. Golden irises cloud over, soon morphing into a pale violet far more befitting a slave of Nethaire.  
  
The angers, concerns, and inhibitions he held all subsided in a moment, fingers releasing their hold on his weapon without a second thought. Every subsequent command was obeyed in a timely manner, even his own thoughts policed by the invisible hand.  
  
He should've been concerned by the sudden onslaught of her lips, or at least reacted in /some/ way. Instead, entranced as he was, he simply parted his lips ever so slightly to accommodate her affections, accepting her writhing tongue with his smaller appendage. His mouth was strikingly hot, even more so than the oddly feverish skin of his chin. It almost scalded the goddess to wrap her tongue with his, but remained pleasurable throughout.  
  
His heartbeat didn't raise. It couldn't have; with her mind using his body like a puppet, he could not feel surprised by her own actions. The two were linked. So long as she maintained the link, she could pleasure herself with the shell, but not the man. Not the fighter. Not the lover.  
  
The chamber seemed umthreatening to his docile mind. Without thinking, he stepped forward, allowing the gate to close shut behind him and seal him away, perhaps permanently.   
  
The hand that grasped him retreated, and with it, so did Kal return to the wheel. Purple optics become sharp dandelions once again, reliving the daydream he'd just experienced as reality. There she stood, safely on the other side of the bars; and he, the one on the inside.   
  
Her 'offer' was taunting.  
  
"Witch," he whispered, expression seething with bubbling rage. Striding forth, powerful hands latched onto parallel bars. "You dare imprison m e . . ?"  
  
Pulling on them with an unreasonable amount of force, he got the unrecognizable metal to loose a wild groan as it struggled to defy his ungodly strength. Muscles filled his wet sleeves to the brim, threatening to tear at the biceps where he fought enchanted ore with brute strength.   
  
And lost.  
  
"Is this a joke?" He almost frothed, stepping away with bleeding palms where the skin had been incapable of dealing with the strength involved. He tore the wet rags of his shirt up over his head, exposing a muscled, tapered frame coated in red tattoos across the right half. A wild mane, still wet from the icy pool, lay haphazard over his naked shoulder.   
  
"I'll warm your bed. I'll set it ablaze and fuck you into the inferno for thinking for even a m o m e n t you could contain me."  
  
Summoning a convulsing ball of blame in his hand, he pitched it at the femme that tormented him, only to see it smash into a magical barrier and wither just before reaching her indulgent frame.   
  
"But sure. Let's cuddle." Sarcasm drooled from his threatening vigor, eyes wild with emotion. A cornered animal knew few limits. That being said - he couldn't afford to rot here for eternity. An endless cycle of starvation after starvation was a brutal way to go.   
  
  


* * *

  
The crude words in which the crimson man omitted did not bother her in the slightest. Whether he knew it or not, his very life force would one day become hers. It did not matter if that would be a day from now or a few thousand years. Here, time stood  still and Nethaire could take as long as she'd like taming him.   
  
If anything, the prospect of spending her eternity with her captivate was arousing. Buried deep within, behind a fleshy exterior she could sense the eternal flame raging inside his vessel. Oh, just the thought of devouring such power made the heat nestled between her thighs /ache/ with desire.   
  
The muscular yet feminine physique of the giantess hovered like a shadow behind the cage. Glowing teal orbs penetrated the darkness surrounding them, like that of a hungry wolf before its meal.   
  
"Is it truly such a hardship to pledge yourself to me?" Nethaire whispered breathlessly against the cold bars of his prison, practically shivering in delight from the pure fury he exhibited.   
"All I ask for his a taste of your divinity, your blazing soul. I can show you the pleasure you only dream about; you would want for nothing else..." Her reddish tongue shot out to lick her lips, as if tasting the memory of his lips on hers.   
  
The delicious need that throbbed within her core only intensified when he peeled off the shirt from his muscular frame. Aquatic hues roved over the exposed tan skin with an intricate ruby design that portrayed a great dragon dancing across his form. She quivered as she drunk in his chiseled chest and thick trail of matching firey hair that cascaded between his hips, disappearing into trousers that held only the most valuable treasure.   
  
The once aquatic hue of Nethaire's locks quickly melted into a dark shade of fuschia, reflecting the utter hunger that boiled within.   
  
"This is your last chance." She warned in the form of a soft snarl, edging even closely to the cage. Had she gone further she would have ended up in the thing herself, yet she worried not.    
  
"You would not even have to spend your time inside that dreary cage, but instead indulge in the luxury of my palace." She all but pleaded, much to her irritation. A Goddess does not beg. But she had never felt such an intense desire for another before, and she would do anything to keep him here.   
  


* * *

  
A short laugh echoed throughout the hollow room, originating deep within that muscled, painted rib cage. It wasn't condescending, no; merely a gesture of raw entertainment at the ridiculous nature of her request, now that the mystery behind his kidnapp ing was no mystery at all.    
  
"Or what -- you'll leave me behind these bars for all eternity?"    
  
Somehow, he doubted it. A goddess like her couldn't take no for an answer, could she? The both of them theoretically had an eternity to wait one another out, but it was he with mortal needs. It was he who needed the comforts of the flesh and stomach; he who needed a place to piss and bathe, and a warm bed to boot.    
  
He couldn't risk calling her bluff.   
  
He was in no place to negotiate. There was only one path from this cage. But there were, potentially, a multitude of paths out of Helheim; and none of them would be found behind these cold bars. Even if another Norse god had the odd idea to free him, they would be unlikely to succeed; if they even knew he'd been taken.    
  
Powerful shoulders grow lax, the tension leaving his upper body as he silently accepts defeat for the briefest of moments and consents. It's a hard pill to swallow; his Adam's apple visibly bobbed in his throat, uncomfortable with the idea of appealing to another's tastes in spite of his own. For so many years, Kaliel had gotten w h a t he wanted, exactly when he wanted it. Being one's prisoner was the worst fate he could possibly imagine.    
  
"Then free me of these walls, and have your taste," he grimaced, playing a convincing act. Could he overpower her the moment she set him free? He doubted it; her mental control over him was a dominating force to be reckoned with, and nothing he could deal with head-on. He'd have to be subtle to pull this off.    
  
Besides; if it was his soul she wanted, he'd dangle it like a carrot before a rabbit. Many had tried to separate body from soul in the past; only once had it ever succeeded, and never in the bedroom.    
  
"And when we are thoroughly s a t e d, I'll be on my way."    
  
Bestial eyes had already fallen to admire the delectable curves the goddess boasted. It was not so bad a deal, perhaps. His anger gave way to a more reserved caution, but his own conquering ambition threatened to keep him down here longer than he'd intended a moment longer.   
  
She wouldn't last a night with Him. All he would have to do is awaken that side of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neth's perspective is written by me and Kal's by Dan.


	4. Chapter 4

He was right where she wanted him.   
  
Well, that wasn't entirely true, she mused. She'd rather him be in all sorts of compromising and delectable positions. The thought brought a new wave of arousal to coat her inner thighs and excitement to pulse like  blood through her veins. Despite her obvious satisfaction, she maintained an expressionless facade over her exterior. She knew better than to expose weakness of any sort to a stranger, no matter how handsome he was or how he lit a fire in her belly.   
  
However, though Nethaire indeed lusted for this particular being, she was no fool. Any expert assassin or mind breaker such as she could taste his true intentions from a mile away. She had no doubt he would truly attempt to leave after seeing to her needs. It bothered her little though, for she was fully confident in her own abilities as well as her palace wards would keep him here. If by some miracle he escaped anyways, there was no portal in Helsheim to the other realms. If he even made it past the gate, that is.   
  
Should the dead catch even the slightest scent of his immortal, ever-burning soul, he would be set upon and devoured by the phantoms. There was little light in this abyssal hellhole, thus the eternal flame he harbored would be like a sirens call to those who dwelled in the darkness. If he ever took step outside her wards, his light would be no more.   
  
"Very well," Nethaire hissed from the void. Long fingers snaked around the cold metal of the cage door before pulling it open, with little effort involved. Carmine fabric danced around her feet like bloody butterflies as she took a step back, allowing the flame-keeper to exit. All the while she watched him through cautious disks that glowed within the dark chamber.   
  
Wordlessly, the giantess reached forth to grab the calloused hands of her prisoner, swiftly turning away and leading him down an inky black hallway. It took all her willpower not to just fuck him right there on the violet carpets. Perhaps later, she inwardly sighed. She replaced them all too recently already, after being bloodstained from the assassin's most recent contract. Nethaire had no doubt the ruby maned immortal would last longer than that one. After all, she planned to keep him in her clutches for the next eternity or so.   
  
After a few minutes of walking in absolute pitch, the duo came to a towering door. The exterior was as black as night, as if crafted from charred wood, with a silver pattern of swirls and skulls etched into the frame. Nethaire gripped the matching metallic handle as she pushed the door open to reveal her inner sanctum.   
  
The chamber itself was in the shape of a full moon with small circular windows stretching across the charcoal pigmented wall. Opposite of the couple stood a massive four poster canopy bed, consisting of luxurious black silk sheets and mahogany pillows. Running along the edge of the canopy are ink coloured, transparent curtains that drape over the sides like a river of darkness. Attached to the rounded wall to the right was a vast bookcase of various tomes with scandinavian inscriptions elegantly scrolled across the spines, with a collection of violet and ebony silk pillows beneath. Next to the petite library is a simple dignified mahogany writing desk with scattered paper stretched across its wooden surface, and a quill laying haphazardly in the middle.   
  
Nethaire licked her lips as she released the man's hand, though her own skin was practically itching to feel the warmth of his flesh again. She leisurely glided across the purple carpets towards her wardrobe, the curve of her hips swaying seductively while doing so.   
  
"You must be positively eager to be out of your damp clothes", she chuckled darkly with her slender back still turned to him, "strip and take a bath. You deserve it..." The goddess practically purred, opening her walk-in closet to peer inside.   
  
"The bathing chamber and bathroom are on the left." Gesturing the charcoal door she spoke of, she continued, "any thoughts of escape would be ill advised, for I shall be here... waiting."   
  
  


* * *

  
  
This time, his mind was left to his own devices, and he found himself following the giantess, lead by the hand like one might a lover. The temptation to rip his arm from her clutches was a strong one, as if it might somehow help him maintain some sense of personal dignity, but something held him back from souring his relations with the heiress of Hel.  
  
She was his ticket in and out of this godforsaken place. Alienating her further could only serve to harm his chances of escape.   
  
Besides, with the walls and floors as dark as the starless night, it was hard to pay attention to anything but the otherworldly femme that directed his path. She was dauntingly tall, and her muscular back was a treat for fierce eyes, tapering thin enough to subtly boast the outer edges of her motherly bosom where the sides spilled from her gown. A dangerous gait took to her hips all too naturally, speaking of a confidence and lustful eagerness that got the blood rushing through Kal's frost-shocked veins. And though her rump hid coyly beneath her gown, it stretched the fabric just enough to assure the crimson stallion that she lacked for nothing. Thick, exotic thighs doubled down on that promise, leading the pair into a room that felt almost more like an arena.   
  
And it was Nethaire who planned to put on a show.  
  
Bewildered yellows never left her, though he'd paused in his tracks once released. In a moment, he could've set the chamber ablaze, devastating any number of pieces of importance. There was no telling how critical her writings were, or the pieces of literature that stacked the far wall. Though her mind magics would likely reign him in before he could strike any sort of killing blow, she placed great faith in his cooperation, despite offering him little more than pleasures of the flesh in return.   
  
"What kind of bedwarmer would I be if I didn't come to bed?"  
  
Humoring her now, he left without bothering to wait for an answer, passing through the archway into the bathing chamber. Though it did not have line of sight with the wardrobe nor the bed, there was no semblance of privacy; no door, drape, or even turn of the hallway to block the view from the bath to the chamber and vice versa. Instead, one room lead into the next, and he found a rectangular vat of what looked like pitch black liquid awaiting him. A massive mirror decorated one of the walls, and he watched himself kneel by the bath, dipping a hand in to scoop up a handful of pristine water.   
  
The stone itself was equally black as night, same as the tiled floor, and it simply reflected its own quality onto the bathwater. Peeling off his belt and sodden trousers, the crimson warrior lowered himself into the bath, letting the steaming water envelope his scarred frame. A small sigh eased itself from his lips, and his head fell back to rest comfortably against the rim of the in-ground pool.   
  
\--   
  
Damp footsteps heralded his return, tile giving way to plush violet carpet as the feni's half-dried figure re-entered Nethaire's chamber. A fittingly black towel wrapped around his hips, cutting off a delightful view of his v-tapered pelvis and the glory that lay beneath. Not a hair sprung from his Spartan physique, joltingly contrary to the hairy norm that Scandinavian warriors boasted with their thick beards and hairy chests. Instead, his smooth, tanned skin spoke of an exotic beauty and divinity unknown to mortal men, and his crimson mane tumbled down his broad back and over wide shoulders with a remarkably glossy sheen.   
  
Bronzed lips had parted to make a clever remark, but the sight that welcomed him left his jaw slack, and the words died in his throat.   
  


* * *

  
  
Slender digits softly caressed the wide variety of luxurious cloth as the giantess attempted to choose the right attire. Absently, her mind wandered to a certain caramel skinned feast of whom set off to bathe in the ajascent chamber, bringing a smirk to her lips. He still had no idea who he was dealing with, and Nethaire practically delighted in that fact.  
  
Cautiously, the aquatic hue of her disks slid over in the males direction. Her breathing hitched upon just catching the slightest glimpse of a muscled back, of which pulled and bulged beneath flesh as he lowered himself into her ebony tub. Even now, he was proud even in capture, the fierce will to endure written on his face. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to rip off her garments and sink her teeth into each lovely straining muscle. She trembled with desire as she imagined ignoring his cries for mercy and breaking him ever so thoroughly.  
  
Nethaire stilled as she set her lurid sights on a special piece of attire. Her pink tongue snaked out between plush lips while she took the dainty silk from her wardrobe, only to hold it up to her ashen form.  
  
Satisfied, the part dark-elf began to strip out of her current outfit. Her heaving bosom bounced slightly as she released it from the strip of fabric in which framed them, allowing the rest of her attire to slide down her voluptuous curves with ease.  
  
Unbeknownst to the man, she too revealed her full nudity within the confines of her boudoir. Frozen fingers brushed the hard lines of her lean stomach, the sensation coaxing a quiet purr from her throat. Before Nethaire could indulge in her soft skin any further, she slowly slipped on her new garments.  
  
With flawless feline grace, she slipped out of her wardrobe and into the darkness of her chamber. The princess revealed little surprise upon noticing another shape had joined her in the void. Predatory optics observed him silently as she circled him.  
  
Her chosen outfit left little to the imagination, yet could bring any man to his knees. A black thong ran over her undulating hips, hips that invited a man's caress while also emphasizing her plump backside. An abyssal leather corset hugged Nethaire's upper body, before cutting into a V just above her belly button. The corset was cut generously, dipping low to reveal supple breasts that bounced with every subtle movement.  
  
Looming ever closer, underscoring their size difference, her lurid stare beckoned, capturing his sharp gaze again, beguiling him with promises of unknown delights.  
  
Finally she had him. Good and caught at her mercy.  
  
Of which there'd be none.   
  


* * *

  
And he was gifted the chance to witness that view in all its sinful beauty, as it made its way around his place of pause. Stationary, she was a delight, but every step she took only enhanced her suffocating sex appeal to the point of absurdity. Kal's w atchful gaze could not help but find the serrations in her tapered side, or the subtle twitch of fibers on the inside of muscled thighs each time she raised another foot to step forward.    
  
Nor could he possibly miss the less than subtle shifts of tightly-bound cleavage as it threatened to burst free from the corset that choked her narrow midsection; the device only made jarringly childbearing hips stand out, bridled only by a thong that pleaded to be whisked aside.    
  
A bold arm extended, wrapped in tribal markings from wrist to shoulder. Daunting musculature forced a field of attractive veins to bulge to the surface, only further proving his liveliness and heated vigor. A singular digit looped inside the strap of her thong, dragging it outward an inch or two before allowing it to slingshot back and playfully sting the line of her hip it hugged.   
  
"All this for me?"   
  
Was it her mental magics captivating him, or just the dark environment that made her lush appeal seem good enough to eat? Though black was usually a safe shade, skilled at hiding contours in cloth, there was no fabric in the world that could hide just how Kal felt about the towering vixen that exposed herself to him-- and when it drew suffocatingly tight around his groin, he held no reservations.   
  
Fearless, he grasped the towel where it clung to his own waistline and tore it away, revealing a masculinity rarely, if ever found in the mortal realm. Blood had surged into its every nook and cranny, flinging it free from its confines with an unabashed eagerness. Though it maintained his bronzed color, a gentle red tint mixed with it, giving it an almost angered, flushed appearance. Nor did he sacrifice girth for length; among men, Kal's stature was legendary in every dimension, not only height.   
  
But compared to the giantess? An ambition to conquer the massive beauty was cause enough for Kal to whip the towel around her midsection, snatching the other end up so that he held both ends, and then using his wide back to row in the half-goddess.   
  
He pulled until he felt her toned forefront bearing against his, creating a soft collision of muscle and fat. A flat stomach met his abdomen and chest, and Kal found himself chin-deep in a gray bust that was even larger than he thought. His swollen cock plunged impatiently inside Nethaire's velvet thigh gap. It almost burned where it touched her skin, it was so unbearably hot.   
  
Angling his head north, he fixated a daring look towards Neth's eyes; one full of challenge and rebellion.   
  
"Who has caught who?"   
  
Perhaps it was unwise to goad her. But Kal was willing to find out.   
  


* * *

  
Nethaire was taken aback by this sudden display of boldness.   
  
However it also thrilled her. It stirred the darkest part of her soul, rousing a profound, gloating wickedness. The host of the delights that awaited were a garden so fertile; the possibilities made her head spin with evil want. If his desire was to conquer a woman such as her, he had another thing coming.   
  
The giantess let out an unrestrained gasp as the bold immortal suddenly grabbed the towel around his waist and tore it off, revealing the monster beneath. Her aquatic hues widened upon the sight of his proud manhood, of which stood erect against him. Despite herself, she could not help but whimper as she gazed upon it. Yet another addition to all that pleased her about this man.   
  
It was when he had the audacity to pull her close that she regained her former steely attitude, though her body seemed to betray her. Nethaire was a goddess, but not one that could will herself to become unaroused. For the heat between her thighs practically a c h e d with utter lust for him, which in turn only furthered her dark ambitions to make him her pet.   
  
He too, seemed to be overcome with savage need. The goddess had to force herself not moan as he thrust his length between the gap in her thighs. The swift movement causing a heady friction against her swollen clit, whilst the intensity of his heat melted her core. In retaliation she stubbornly squeezed her legs together, placing further pressure around his engorged cock.   
  
She licked her lips, voice devolving into a predatory growl. "Mark my words, Kal--I'm going to storm your defenses and break you d o w n. And when you're out of willpower, I'm gonna fuck you again and again, until your body feels wrong without being inside me."   
  
After the confident declaration, her teeth found his throat. She snarled like an animal as she captured him, biting deep, drawing skin and muscle between her incisors and sucking hard. She claimed him as she wanted to for so long, branding his tanned flesh with sharp kisses.   
  
Her kiss was cruel, painting his tender skin a lurid palette of sanguine blooms. Nethaire looked at him almost beseechingly, bidding him to want her, making him picture what she desired to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neth's perspective is written by me while Kal's is by Dan.

**Author's Note:**

> Neth's perspective is written by me, while Kal's is written by Dan.


End file.
